


20,000 leagues under the sea: A Victorian Sherlock AU

by MorganeUK



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 20000 leagues under the sea - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Jules Verne - Freeform, M/M, Molly Hooper is a great friend, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scientist Sherlock, Submarines, Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25470988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganeUK/pseuds/MorganeUK
Summary: The Holmes Brothers are living under the sea, protected from the world violence and general stupidity… Alone, with only a small crew, they explore the world inside their submersible.Perfectly satisfied and unaware of their loneliness, until they meet Captain Lestrade and Doctor Watson from the Royal Navy.Only one problem, Lestrade and Watson are trying to destroy them.A Sherlock Victorian AU of Jules Vernes’ wonderful novel "20,000 lieues sous les mers".
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 15





	1. A mysterious enemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inevitably_johnlocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitably_johnlocked/gifts), [Mycroft_Greg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroft_Greg/gifts).



> Sherlock and all are not mines, etc etc
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful and patient beta: Notjustamum
> 
> (Thank you Mycroft_Greg for all the love you recently gave to my fics. I was a bit unmotivated and it cheered me up! I am now working on chapter 3!)

In 1895 a strange affair captured the imagination of the press and the public alike. A gigantic “thing” that attacked ships around the globe was a story strange enough to amaze young and old from all the spectrum of the society. Nobody knew exactly what it was. No one was more nonplussed by it than the seafaring men as every discussion in every local of every ports revolved around the fantastic beast for months. An unknown species of whale or squid, a monster from the bottom of the ocean? The various accounts nearly described it the same way. It was black, quicker, longer and larger than anything seen by any crew! The incredulity of the first seeing – everyone knows that sailors like their liquor – was quickly replaced by consternation as the beast started to attack ships of good repute. The beast or  _ beasts, _ as the idea that a single specimen was able to go across an ocean in a few days was ludicrous, was slowly becoming a public phenomenon as illustrations and stories recorded by captains all over the world regularly made the first page of the newspapers.

> _ Another viewing of the monster! No one hurt! _
> 
> The passengers of The Valiant woke up as the crew screamed on the morning of February 4 th . Captain Holt reported the event as thus:  _ “This morning, something strange happened. I had been summoned on the front deck by my second. The man, usually composed and rational, was excited beyond any common sense! He pointed in the direction of North/Northwest at something perhaps one knot away. At first, I thought it was a small island close to the water when it started to move. I realized that it was the monster we had heard about! We watched it for a few minutes before it disappeared under the water. We waited with anxiety, the possibility of an attack present in all of our minds, but nothing happened. We continued to our destination without further encounter.”  _ You must admit, dear reader, that this story is quite extraordinary!
> 
> _London News,_ _ February 4 _ _ th _ _ , 1895 _
> 
> _ * _
> 
> _ An attack against a Japanese warship! _
> 
> On the morning of March 5, a vessel from the Imperial Japanese Navy was attacked by what the few survivors described as “an enormous monster with a tusk able to destroy metal, a body cold and hard as the rock with enormous phosphorescent eyes.” The warship was headed in the direction of Asan Bay in Korea where they wanted to force a blockade to penalize China for its intervention. Of the 234 men on board, only 36 sailors and 5 officers survived the events of that morning. The Emperor, as the supreme commander of the Navy, sent a formal address against the nation that directed the monster against his force, stating “it could only be the creation of a devious enemy as no creature from Ryūjin(1) would dare to attack our ship!” We cannot say if the cause was a mine, a new kind of contraption or in fact a monster from the depths, but one thing is certain, the population was protected from the blockade because of that fortunate incident.
> 
> _ Sydney News, March 7, 1895 _
> 
> _ * _
> 
> _ Was it a strange island? No! It’s the monster! _
> 
> A telegram informed us that on March 7 a steamer christened  _ The India Star _ hit what the captain thought to be a reef or a shipwreck. They were about to check for any damage when the inanimate object started to move! You can imagine the stupor of the courageous sailors! One of the officers explained that the water suddenly started to boil as a gigantic column of water was projected into the sky. “ _ We thought it was some form of geyser, but as we were in the middle of the Indian Ocean, it was impossible! Suddenly, the black form moved, hissed and disappeared under the water. _ ” It appears The India Star’s crew saw the famous monster. Thankfully, everyone was safe, and the ship was able to sail back to port after a small repair to the hull. Not all the encounters with the beast ended that well as you know.
> 
> _ Calcutta Herald, March 20, 1895 _
> 
> *
> 
> _ HMS Hasting attacked in the Atlantic! His Majesty’s Navy must stop the monster! _
> 
> The HMS Hasting was navigating in the direction of Egypt when he was most ungentlemanly attacked in the middle of the night before entering the Mediterranean Sea. The terrible shock woke up all the sailors and officers that weren’t on duty. Nobody was hurt but the ship was stopped for weeks due to mechanical problems.
> 
> Curiously, the ship was not listed as being officially part of the mission to help the administration of Egypt. A political analyst who wishes to remain anonymous exposed the idea that “ _ one can wonder if the mission was secret and if the British Government already regrets the Convention of Constantinople. I would not be surprised if one day war is declared for the possession of the Suez Canal, as important it is for the global economy and especially for British Empire as we have many commercial interests in India. _ ” The Times is of course against that rather unpatriotic idea.
> 
> The Times, April 5, 1895
> 
> *
> 
> _ Fishermen saved by a giant whale! _
> 
> Three fishermen in a bad situation were saved by what they described as a giant black whale. The misadventure happened near the northern coast of Newfoundland. The three men, aged 34, 24 and a young man of 18 left Sainte-Barbe harbour at first light. The first few hours went peacefully enough, the St-Lawrence golf calm and clear. The weather suddenly changed but the unfortunate sailors were not able to go back to safety before the storm and despite their valiant effort, a wave submerged their small embarcation. After hours and hours lost in the cold sea with only a few pieces of wood to hang onto they were starting to lose all hope when they felt something under them. “ _ I woke up, I probably lost consciousness a moment before, thinking that the waves pushed us ashore but no! We were still in the middle of the gulf, but a good distance from the coast, _ ” one of the men said. The youngest of the group, Adam McLaughlin, swore that suddenly they found themselves touching a hard surface and carried slowly in the direction of the shore. The gentle beast left them at a safe distance of Shoal Cove East where they were able to find help to go back to their village. The men will have quite a story to tell for years to come!
> 
> Montreal Gazette, May 1 st 1895

The scientific community was as clueless as the general public. The outrage each time a ship was sunk, or a precious cargo destroyed, increased to a new level after an attack upon an Italian warship making for Ethiopia with arms and ammunition for General Baratieri’s soldiers. The lack of equipment was a hardship on the Italian army and the main cause of the terrible defeat of Amba Alagi. After that event, discovering the source of the attack had become an international competition amongst world leaders, scholars and whale hunters as many countries were offering a large sum for the creature’s destruction.

On British soil, the rational but creative members of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers were fighting for the idea that it could only be a man-made creation, the work of a mad genius, while the recently created Marine Biological Association stated that only nature was able to create such a powerful yet terrifying creature. The discussions between the two associations entertained the public for many weeks as they both argued by the means of open letters in the press. Some argued: “ _ It can only be an unknown species; we still do not know what is at the bottom of the ocean!” _ While others maintained: “ _ Nothing save for human ingenuity can cause that kind of damage, animals do not attack vessels without reason! Only mankind is capable of such barbaric action.” _

Invited by the shareholders of the most celebrated British shipyard to see with their own eyes the destruction caused by the encounter with the unknown menace on one of their ship, a train full of scientists rushed to Liverpool. At their arrival, a teeming crowd was already surrounding the dock, everyone trying to witness with their own eyes the wreckage caused by the new Leviathan. Finally able to access the side of the ship, the usually opinionated professors became speechless! The gigantic cargo ship showed gaping holes on the side, slightly below the waterline. It was as if a giant used a nail to pierce the ship. After hours of measurements, drawings, and note-taking, the final consensus between the engineers and the biologist was that it was impossible that it was something randomly floating in the water. The impact was too forceful, too purposeful. The biologists admitted that at some places, where the ship was reinforced with metal, the perfect triangular form of the hole was something unseen and impossible in the animal kingdom. On the other side, the idea that a machine constructed by man was able to do all this was unthinkable as the investment in money and scientific discovery would have been public knowledge!

The men went back to London, with more questions than they had before… The only thing that everyone agreed upon was that whatever it was, it was a menace that needed to be stopped!

In a pub near his casern, Captain John H. Watson was reading all the account from different newspapers, in awe with the technology used – he wasn’t stupid enough to think it was an animal – when the pub owner stopped to read over his shoulder.

“What do you think of that monster, Captain?” Not waiting for an actual response, he took Watson’s pint to the counter and returned with a full one. “Never heard of something like that, and I’ve heard some stories… Ohhhh the time that ghost ship was –“

He was interrupted by a joyous shout as the door opened, “Watson! Here you are, mate!”

“Stamford!” John let go, astonished at the sight of his old medical college friend, “what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, of course,” without hesitation, he shook his old friend’s arm heartily. “How have you been, dear fellow, I heard that you were shot!” Suddenly aware that it was not a good idea to hug a wounded man, he stepped back. “Sorry, I hope I did not –“ He motioned a hand vaguely in the direction of his friend.

Chuckling sadly, John nodded down at his shoulder “not to worry, old man, only the shoulder and… that.” With a sigh, he pointed in the direction of his cane.  _ Stubborn leg! _ Eying the owner of the local, he ordered an ale for his old buddy. “What is going with you nowadays and what are you doing here, really? We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“I’m working for the Royal Naval College in Greenwich now, I have been charged to educate new cohorts of assistant surgeons.” Enthusiastically, Stamford glanced at the papers on the table, at the stories about the monster and smiled. Thanking the wench that brought his beer, he looked at the doctor with humour in his eyes. “Are you satisfied by just reading about adventures and monsters now? This is not the John Watson that I know!”

“I am not the John Watson that I used to be,” he mumbled. “Anyway, who would want me on any big adventure… my career is over.” To John’s amazement, the usually sympathetic Stamford started to chuckle. “What, did I say something funny?”

“No, it’s just that you are the second person to tell me exactly the same thing today.” Finishing his pint quickly he raised from the bench, “am I right to think that you have nothing to lose at the moment, Watson?”

Watson’s first thought was for his gun that was waiting for him back in his tiny set of rooms, his only due to the charity of the Crown now that he was unable to serve. Pushing himself up to standing, he replied soberly, “no, nothing to lose.”


	2. A secret mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson learned a bit about what is going on… and met a captain from the Royal Navy.

As he walked with Stamford in the direction of the nearest dock, Watson tried to get more information about where they were going but to no avail.  _ This is ridiculous, I am a grown man not a babe!  _ “Tell me where we are going or I am back to my pint,” he tried one last time.

“No, don’t think about it my friend! It is not my role to talk to you about all this. They only enquired about you, I replied, and they asked me to find you as soon as possible and…  _ voilà! _ ”

He thought about Stamford’s link with the Admiralty, his comments about the monster…  _ Is this about the vessel that is attacking our troops? _ “Your inflexibility is outlandish!  _ Who _ are you talking about? And what is it all about? I need to know –“ 

“Watson,” the other man replied seriously, “it cannot be worse than what your life is right now, can it?” He gave him an apologetic smile without missing a beat. “It was not nice of me to say that, sorry, mate… But it is true, no? I heard about what happened and you retired way before your time. Trust me, you need this.”

“Perhaps,” the former soldier was not going to admit that what the other man said was true _ , God I barely admit it to myself! _ “It does not mean that I should carelessly just join an unknown project just for the sake of doing… something!”

“Ah!” The larger man said, interrupting the doctor’s protestations, “here we are!” Moored to the dock, a small ship waited for them, thick smoke already escaping the chimney as the steam was building up. “Come with me,  _ they _ are waiting for us.” Without looking behind him – knowing that Watson would not be able to resist – Stamford jumped aboard the ship.

It was a split-second decision. The choice between going back to his temporary bed-sit or following his old friend into something new was simple. Something that looked thrilling with secrets, adventures and what about this ominous  _ they _ . The inanity of his life since he left the army – or more precisely since Her Majesty army abandoned him – had become impossible to bear. Without a thought for the stick he had left behind in the pub, he stepped over the edge 

It was exhilarating for Watson to do something irrational, something selfish for once. The first actual decision that he made for himself since his return.  _ Hope it is a good one.  _ He tried once more to coerce Stamford into saying something – anything – about what was going on, but the man would only talk about his wife and children.

The small boat was quickly moving east on the Thames, so he assumed they were on their way to Greenwich.  _ But why? And why me? _

“And you?”

Lost in his thoughts, Watson asked, “sorry, you said something?”

“Yes, and you, you are not wed I know that, but do you have a nice woman waiting for you?” He nudged his friend lightly on his good shoulder. “A hope of having children? Any news about your sister?”

He chuckled derisively. “No, nothing from Harriet and no, no wife, or family… not really my area.”

Blushing as he remembered some gossip about his friend, Stamford murmured, “you are still young,” noncommittally.

Letting the uncomfortable conversation fade, Watson considered the city that was unfolding in front of his eyes. To his left, the majestic silhouette of the Tower of London was as impressive as ever in the twilight. In awe, Watson admired the ingenuity of the Tower Bridge. It was the first time he caught a glimpse of the new bridge from the water, the evidence of a new era and an engineering marvel.

“You know, you can visit the steam chamber and everything if you are interested. It truly is something to be proud of as a Londoner and an Englishman,” Stamford explained, seeing his friend was impressed by the structure. “You weren’t in London last year, but the inauguration of the bridge was a grand affair, as well as the first time they opened the bridge!”

As he turned to look at his friend, Watson winked, hoping to throw him off his game, “yes, the genius of humanity seems to be without peer these days, doesn’t it?”  _ You see, I know what is going on! It is about that “submarine” that is beyond everything we know about current technology! _

Not taking the bait, the irritating man nodded, “yes, it is a great period for mankind.”

They settled into silence for a few minutes when the little ship suddenly changed direction. “What?” Watson was unable to control his curiosity any longer, “we are not going to Greenwich? To the Royal Navy College?”

“No, why in God’s name should we go to Greenwich?” Stamford chuckles, pleased with himself.

“Oh, shut up mate!”

“Oi! Language! We aren’t in an army camp! Ah… here we are.”

Watson shifted his stance to look at the dock in front of him. A gracious but powerful cruiser was moored, lights ablaze and full of activity. “What is she doing here? This is not a usual spot for the Navy…”

“Let's say it is more a side-project than an official Navy campaign…

Thinking of the insinuation about the Suez Canal in one of the articles he had read, Watson frowned. “I’m not interested in any stealth attack on Egypt, frankly I’ve had enough of war of any kind, I do not want to be a part of it, especially unneeded one. Take me back to my pub.”

“No, no,” Stamford protested under his breath, “even if it is a bit related…, “ he winked, “if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, so  _ this is _ about the attacks.”

“Yes,” Stamford muttered under his breath, finally giving in, “but do not tell them I said something!”

They stopped near a ladder embedded in the side of the dock. Watson climbed out of the ship, curious to know more about what is going on. A sub-lieutenant was already there, waiting for them. He nodded at Stamford, still in the small ship. “They thank you for your help, the ship will return you home when you are ready.”

In a fit of panic, Watson questioned his friend, “Stamford? You are not staying with me?”

“No, sorry mate, all this is out of my league… my business is done.” He extended his hand, clasping Watson’s hand tightly, then let it go. “Take care and when all this is over, we’ll go for a pint.”

“Yes, of course, but I still don’t understand: why me?”

“They asked me to describe you in a few words. I said that you were the most courageous, competent, opinionated and intelligent but most reckless doctor in the UK. I think that last bit sold them because they asked me to bring you to them. It was meant to be.” As the boat sailed away, he screamed, “Be glorious, John Watson!”

His eyes remained on the small ship until it disappeared.  _ What the Hell I am doing here. _

“Surgeon-captain?” The sub-lieutenant called out to get his attention, “they are waiting for you.” He extended his hand in the direction of a small building. “Please follow me.”

“I will follow you, but please call me Watson or Doctor Watson, I am no longer in the army, and anyway the rank in the Navy is not an equivalent -”

“They told me to call you Surgeon-captain, Sir, if you do not mind, I am going to listen to my superior's orders.”

Not wanting to get the young man in trouble, Watson stopped protesting and walked in the direction of what looks like the shipyard office.

The room was occupied by six people in the midst of a heated discussion that came to a halt as soon as Watson entered the room. A man stepped from behind a big table loaded with charts and plans and extended his hand as the others stepped back in respect.

“Watson, good for you to join us.”

“Sir,” the man was obviously a high-ranking officer, but he dressed as a civilian, “I admit that I have no idea what I am doing here.”

“Not sure I understand everything myself to be honest,” the man grumbled before he spoke to his aide-de-camp, “Smith.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the sub-lieutenant who escorted Watson replied, “Surgeon-captain Watson may I present you the Foreign Secretaries, Marquess of Salisbury; Vice-Admiral Browning, Captain Lestrade, commanding officer of the HSM Archer, and Professor Moriarty from the Department of Mechanical Engineering at Imperial College.” After a nod from his superior, he continued, “and Admiral Hunt-Grubbe. Sirs, this is Surgeon-captain John H. Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers of His Majesty’s Army.”

Unable to accept a title that wasn’t his, he protested again. “Admiral, I must correct your assumption, I am not Surgeon-captain, that is a rank exclusively for the Navy officer and furthermore –“

“Smith!” The authoritative man barked, “paper.”

“Yes, Sir.” Quickly the young man took a letter from the table and handed it to Watson with a slight nod, “this is for you.”

The doctor read the paper with amazement.  _ By this document and upon my direct order, Doctor John H. Watson, formerly captain of His Majesty Army, has been conferred the rank of surgeon-captain in the Royal Navy. This is effective immediately and will remain effective until further notice. Signed by Admiral Hunt-Grubbe.  _ The certificate was official but it was something that he never heard of!  _ Relocation from the Army to the Navy, it is impossible! “ _ Admiral, I am… flattered… but I do not understand.”

“Your country needs you, Watson, are you ready to join us,” with a confident smile he added, “We have a monster to chase!” 

Later that night Watson was finally alone in his small cabin on board the HMS Archer thinking over the last hours’ events. His things, miraculously shipped from his bedsit, were waiting on his bed as well as his new uniform.  _ Even my gun. This is quite unusual. EVERYTHING is highly unusual. _ The concept that it was easier for everybody to just change his position to suit the mission instead of having him on board as a civilian doctor was crazy but… His eyes fell on the brass buttons and dark blue wool of his uniform that were shining in the low light from a small electrical lamp.  _ It is quite fetching; everyone loves a sailor. _

He was about to open his toiletry bag when someone knocked at his door.

“Come in!”

“Hey, surgeon-captain, may I join you for a moment?” It was Captain Lestrade, a bottle of whisky in hand. “I think we both need a few fingers…”

Chuckling, the doctor opened his door wide to let the man in. “Have a seat,” he pointed in the direction of the sole chair in the cabin, as he sat at the edge of the bed.

Lestrade precisely measured their drinks before giving his glass to his companion. “To the monster!”

“To the monster! Even if we know that it is not a monster…”

“If men are able to kill like this, they are monsters.”

“True. What do you know of all this… they didn’t really tell us anything. That we were working on a secret revolutionary submarine when the plans had been stolen by our enemies? That they were able to use them to create the perfect submarine? It is a bit too much don’t you think? Hopefully that professor, Moriarty, is going to explain everything in more detail once we are at sea.”

“Yes, you heard of the submarine we sold to the Ottoman Empire?” As Watson nodded, he smirked, “it was not able to stay under the water for more than a few minutes with a 4 knots speed! 4 KNOTS!”

“The Spanish Peral was better though… too bad that it was abandoned.”

Looking at his new colleague with respect, Lestrade took a sip of his drink, “yes, you are right. I am wondering if some of the plans of this new submersible come from the Peral.”

“We need to stop it, that we are sure of.” As he hummed in appreciation of the excellent whisky, Watson considered the man in front of him. He was perhaps 10 years older than himself, grey hair, a well-seasoned sailor. Something in his demeanour strangely seemed false, contrite even. “If I may ask, how did you arrive on this campaign… the ship, she is not yours, neither is the crew on board.”

“It is a long story; I will tell you everything when we know each other better but not tonight. Let's say that I made a mistake, but life brought me a chance to redeem myself.” Watson listened in silence; a bit lost by what happened to him in the last few hours. “They looked for someone with specific qualities, my name was suggested, as the Admiral remembered some actions that I was part of a few years ago…” He shrugged his shoulders, still amazed to be there. “I… I never thought that I was going to have the opportunity to redeem myself. I thought that nobody would ever want me on anything remotely important.” His voice broke as he murmured, “I thought that my career was over.”

Smiling as he recalled his friend’s comment about meeting another miserable person today, Watson refilled the man’s glass, “do you know Stamford?”

“Yes, I met him today while I was a bit panicking at the idea of…” he motioned his hands around to encompass everything about their mission, “he helped me, really great fellow! He is a friend of yours?” 

“Oh yes,“ laughing, Watson began to share the adventures they had when they were students, happy to have found a comrade on what was certainly going to be a formidable adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouhhhh Moriarty is on board. But he's only a professor, not a criminal mastermind. Isn't it? 
> 
> More info about the few submarines created before 1895: https://www.oobject.com/category/victorian-submarines/
> 
> 2020-08-12: A longer delay than usual, sorry!


	3. The Bruce-Partington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More information about the mysterious submarine is revealed…

Watson was drinking his strong tea in a corner of the mess, reading a newspaper as he listened to the boisterous discussions around him.

“You know, I think it’s something like a giant squid –“

“What,” a fellow seaman protested, “you think it’s the kraken? Are you serious mate, it’s not a fairy tale!”

“No! It’s a ghost pirate ship –“

“You’re daft! It’s a whale like the one in the north, with a giant horn but huge as a ship –“

He smiled at the silliness of the various comments, turning pages slowly, satisfied with being back in action. To have men to take care of, to belong somewhere… even if it was strange to be at sea. His sleep has been peaceful, lulled by the gentle movement of the ship and the calm feeling of once more being useful. It was only his first morning aboard the ship, but he had been of use already. He had sutured the hand of one of the kitchen boys, as well as helped the captain’s clerk fighting a terrible headache. Even without being at war, the crew of 53 men was large enough to bring plenty of work for him to stay busy.  _ Thank God I am not prone to seasickness... but I still don’t understand what I am doing here exactly?  _ He considered why he had been invited on board - the adventure of the mysterious submersible they were chasing - before getting back to his newspaper.

Lost in an article about the first games of the newly created Northern Rugby Football Union, he did not realize that someone was standing at his right until the man spoke.

“Idiots, all of them, don’t you think doctor? The Crown will not shed a tear if they die at the hands of our brilliant opponent.”

Turning his head in the direction of the disdainful voice, Watson frowned at the cruelty of the comment. “They may be less  _ educated _ than you, but they are working hard all day long without complaining and they are loyal to each other not to mention friendly to strangers.” The strain on  _ educated _ was clearly showing who the doctor was thinking to be the real ignorant of the bunch.  _ It must be horrible to have this man as a professor! _

Moriarty smiled, perfectly aware of the other man's disapproval. “Stranger indeed you are, you shouldn’t be here doctor, with the seamen and the boys. You belong in the Officers’ mess, on the main deck, not here.”

Pushing his chair, Watson got up and retorted, “as if you can speak, the  _ Warrants’ _ Mess is just further away along the corridor.”

The hatred on the slimy man’s face disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He was about to say something when the steward interrupted them. “I found you both, finally! Surgeon-captain, professor, the captain is waiting for you in his room.”

Captain Lestrade was looking at a world map when they entered the meeting room. “Ah! We were waiting for you both, our little team is now complete. O’Keeffe, that’s all for now. Thank you.” The steward closed the door as he left, letting the men alone. “Watson,” he moved his hand in the direction of a young man in civilian clothes, “I think you already know the ship clerk, Yates?”

“Yes,” the doctor nodded, “we spoke yesterday. Hope you are doing better, Yates?”

“Yes, surgeon-captain, thank you again.” He was clearly excited to be part of such an excursion!

“The admiralty liaison officer, sub-lieutenant Anderson as well as Professor Moriarty who you met yesterday.” He let his men exchange politeness before clearing his voice to get everyone attention. “Also, I would like to introduce you to Miss Margaret Hooper, marine biologist.”

A young woman who was waiting in an alcove walked in the middle of the room to stand in front of the group. “Thank you, captain,” nodding with the smallest of curtsies, she smiled at the men’s incredulity, “nice to finally meet you gentlemen.”

“A biologist!” Professor Moriarty protested with a snare, “we do not need a biologist, even less a  _ female one _ , we are chasing a man-made vessel not a mermaid, Miss!”

“But captain, a woman –“ Anderson muttered, “it’s… it’s bad luck! A matron in the kitchen or to take care of the younger boys maybe, but a  _ young _ unattached woman! She should not be here, it is… it is confusing!”

“Confusing for whom? Certainly not for her.” Watson retorted, “if our Queen is able to rule the whole of the Empire, I think that a young woman should be able to study in the field of her choice.”

Yates, astonished at the sight of the beautiful yet simply and modestly clothed biologist, murmured, “yes, doctor, but don’t you think it is asking for trouble?”

“No,” Lestrade stated, “I have the utmost confidence in our men's proper manner. Miss Hopper, Professor Moriarty, is the adoptive daughter of Joseph Dalton Hooker (1). She was at his side all over the world in her youth and helped him on numerous projects before she chose marine biology…” beaming with pride as if he was responsible for the woman’s success, he continued, “where she finished at the top of her mixed gender class.” He dismissed any further protestation by adding, “we are all convinced – Miss Hopper included - that the savage that is attacking ships around the world is a war machine but the opportunity to know more about the oceans was too good to pass up.” Stepping near the table, he pointed to the various places where the  _ monster _ had been seen in the last year. “Gentlemen, and you Miss, with your help we are going to find it!”

Knowing that he had an advantage on the others and satisfied that the biologist was not there to work with him, Moriarty opened the file he brought after a quick nod from the captain. “We received more information yesterday, after our official meeting, that can be disclosed now that we are at sea.” It was the image of a submarine, the largest that any of them have ever heard of. “This is our best idea of what it looks like, the only lead we have in fact.”

“What is this?” Watson asked, looking at the picture with curiosity. “Is this even real?”

“It is only a model, but the actual submersible is expected to be 70 meters long -”

“70 meters!” Anderson objected, “that’s impossible!”

“- and 8 meters at the widest, more than enough space for a crew of 15 or 20 people.” Moriarty continued, without acknowledging the sub-lieutenant interruption. “It corresponds to the various stories about the so-called monster.”

“I do not understand,” Watson said while he inspected the picture closely as well as a blueprint that looked like a small part of an impressive and intricate plan. “How is it possible for that vessel to cause havoc when it was a project that I suppose,” he pointed at the logo in the corner of the photograph, “was under the supervision of the Navy?”

Resentful at the implications, the sub-lieutenant frowned. “I never heard of such a project… and to insinuate that the Navy was not able to protect –“

“It was a secret of the greatest importance,” Lestrade replied, “therefore you never heard of it, Anderson. I heard about it only yesterday. It was shut down after… an unfortunate incident.”

“Professor Partington was behind that?” Miss Hopper asked as she read the name printed in the corner of one of the schematics. “I’ve heard of him, a proper genius in mechanical engineering.”

“Yes, my  _ colleague _ at the Imperial College left us two years ago, without giving any notice to the department.”

Moriarty's abhorrence was clearly audible, confirming Watson's opinion about the despicable character of the man. “Is it possible that he’s the mastermind behind all this? How is it that you have these documents in your hands?”

“Partington was found dead a few months after he left, still clutching one page of the submarine plan… This is the unfortunate event Captain Lestrade was referring to.” He carefully put the documents back in the file, “we do not know what happened to the rest of it or who committed the crime.”

Thinking of the impressive submarine, the sub-lieutenant smirked, “it is impossible for one person to be that clever. Perhaps his associates killed him?”

“Two men were working with him; one was found dead while the other disappeared.”

Satisfied with the easy solution, Anderson nodded, “So I am right, it can only be that man. Find the man, find the submarine.”

Yates frowned as he tried to write a summary of the discussion without missing anything and asked, “What is the name of the suspect?”

Moriarty's smile became sinister. “His name is Sherlock Holmes. He is horrible, jealous of other talents, unable to work with a team. I still do not understand how he was able to work on that project! The rumors said that his brother is well known in the upper government.”

“That is probably the reason why he was a part of such a secret and prestigious project,” Anderson agreed, wanting to stay in the professor's good grace as well as showing off his brilliance to his captain.

“I heard about a man called Holmes when I was in India…” Watson murmured, lost in his thoughts _. I am sure that I heard about Holmes being an important part of The Great Game (2). A diplomat of some sort…  _

“Remember that you are here because you are a surgeon, Doctor Watson,” Moriarty reminded him coldly, “you are not there to investigate.”

“Surgeon-captain Watson is there for his medical knowledge as well as his leadership and pragmatic approach, Professor Moriarty. I have here a full library of books about the sea and the latest technologies in engineering and chemistry.” He looked at Watson with approbation, “I have the utmost confidence that he is going to be able to learn everything that he needs to follow our discussions and offer his opinion.”

“But –“

“That is all for today, we should cross the Isle of Wight this afternoon then go to full speed. If you have never seen it, I suggest that you go outside to look at the coast as it is really beautiful. I gave the command to go in the direction of the American East coast as the last few encounters were on this side of the ocean.”

“But if he changes course, Captain?” Anderson complained, “all this for nothing!”

“The ship is equipped with the latest transmitters, if something new happens we are going to know it.” Fed up by the constant bickering of his second – a man that he did not choose himself – he added harshly, “any other objections, Anderson?”

“No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

“Dismissed.”

That night, alone in his cabin, Watson tried to earn the captain’s good words by reading some of the books at his disposal. He first chose a book titled “Experiments with Alternate Currents of High Potential and High Frequency” by a man called Tesla. Electricity as a source of power had always intrigued him as well as a few papers published by the Institution of Mechanical Engineers. Too tired to read a whole book, he opened the first paper and started reading. For hours he read articles trying to educate himself on the realm of mechanical engineering, from metallurgy to steam power. His head was spinning as he tried to put pieces together as he learned about the creativity and ingenuity of British and international engineers. He was about to stop for the night when he turned the title page of one last paper.  _ Oh God.  _ In front of him in the dimmed light of his cabin he saw something that was not expected.

_ The production of electricity using the chemistry of seawater, by W.S.S. Holmes, Member of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers _

As exhausted as he was, he found himself unable to wait. Watson started to read and become rapidly absorbed by the complexity and the sheer cleverness of the presented experiments. The clever mix of chemistry and machinery seemed to bend easily to Holmes’ will.  _ It is brilliant, the man is a genius _ . A small vignette showed the man in his laboratory in the middle of an experiment.  _ And he is stunning, I wonder what colour his eyes are, the tone of his voice.  _ Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of his thoughts – finding a potential murderer and traitor beautiful! Watson turned down his small lamp and laid down in his berth.

And if he dreamed of a lovely tall man with eyes the colours of the sea… nobody was the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Joseph Dalton Hooker: British botanist and explorer in the 19th century. He was a founder of geographical botany and Charles Darwin's closest friend. For twenty years he served as director of the Royal Botanical Gardens, Kew, succeeding his father, William Jackson Hooker, and was awarded the highest honours of British science. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Dalton_Hooker)
> 
> 2 The Great Game: A political and diplomatic confrontation that existed for most of the 19th century between the United Kingdom and Russia over Afghanistan and neighbouring territories in Central and South Asia. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Game) Yeah, I know TGG, the universe is rarely so lazy.


	4. At sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Lestrade confides to Watson about an important event in his life. Doctor Watson learns more about Holmes.

As the last message they received from the admiralty was that the enemy was still in the Caribbean, they continued to cross the Atlantic Ocean at full speed. The days were well spent as a schedule was easily established amongst them. The meeting room was available all day long to Lestrade’s guests and Professor Moriarty, as well as Miss Hooper, spent many hours reading and writing. Silently avoiding each other, of course. Watson opened the surgery three hours a day, in the morning, as well as being on call for any emergency. The rest of his time he was either in the meeting room – he did not trust that creepy Moriarty near the sweet-tempered biologist – or with Captain Lestrade with whom he learned more about the way of the Royal Navy.

An afternoon found them alone on the upper deck, watching the great expanse of sea in front of them. The sky was blue and grey, heavy with menacing clouds.

“It is superb, is in it?” The doctor murmured, afraid of breaking the captain's contemplative attitude.

After a minute or two, Lestrade smiled and sighed sadly, “to think that I nearly lost –“, realizing what he was about to say, he stopped.

“You know you can say anything to me,” his companion suggested with a warm smile, “doctors are as good as priests.”

“I don’t think that Chaplain O’Malley is on part with you on that, surgeon-captain.” He chuckled, thinking about the old priest who mostly remained in the chapel, praying to stay safe from the so-called monster.

“Just know that it will remain our secret if you wish to talk about something.”

After a moment of silence, the older man whispered, “it is my last chance. This… this quest. My last chance to make amends.” It was barely audible, but Watson caught everything. Lestrade swallowed with difficulty, his throat suddenly tight. “Did you hear about… the HMS Victoria?”

“The incident with the HMS Camperdown? Yes, of course… Were you –“, not daring to say anything more, he tried to recall the names of the captains involved in the incident.

Knowing that it was only a matter of time before the doctor remembered or asked, Lestrade confirmed, “I… I was the captain of HMS Victoria. This is a well-known fact to everyone on board, so I thought it was important that you know as well.”

The images published in the papers, the articles describing the deaths of the nearly 400 crew members were still fresh in the doctor’s mind. The story of the disaster as well as the inquiries that followed remained for months a subject of conversation before being replaced by the mysterious enemy.

“If I remember, you have nothing to be ashamed of, Captain Lestrade.” The vice-admiral in charge of the fleet at that time had been publicly considered personally responsible for the accident. “You should not put the deaths of these men on your shoulders.”

“I  _ was _ responsible, I knew… I knew that the manoeuvre was putting her at risk.” His hands held onto the balustrade tightly, his fingers turning white under the pressure. The emotion palpable. “I  _ obeyed _ . I obeyed instead of saying NO. I did not follow my instinct or put my foot down. The death of 358, no, 357 men - I do not give a damn about vice-admiral Tryon – is on me. Because I was a coward.”

“You have been exonerated of everything by the authority, by the Navy –“

“I am the only one who can absolve myself.” The man’s voice was heavy with emotions. “They tried to put me on another ship, and I said no… over and over. Until this. THIS is my chance at redemption.”

“Fighting that submarine, ending the cause of future shipwrecks, will not calm your torment,” Watson replied, thinking about his own nightmare.  _ If doing good was enough to push everything horrible away... what a wonderful place it would be! _

“Maybe not, but it can only help.” He smiled sadly. “Only a monster can kill another one.”

Both men remained silent, as they watched as the heavy clouds gathered more and more at the horizon.

The dinner was usually a formal affair. The officers on board gathered in the Officer’s mess while Miss Hooper and Professor Moriarty – even if they were invited as guests of the admiralty – often ate in their cabin. After a good meal and a glass of wine or two, most officers that weren’t on duty traditionally remained around the table to smoke, play cards or trade stories. That night after Lestrade’s confession was no exception except for the fact that the seasoned sailor left quickly once the meal was over after ordering his second – who was usually in charge when he was not present – to relax as he was going to supervise the switch to the night shift himself.

“Poor man,” the lieutenant said as the door closed. “I hope that he is going to find peace after all this.” The middle-aged man, Brixton, was obviously dismayed by his superior’s distress.

Snickering, Anderson muttered to the steward who was cleaning the dishes, “still don’t understand how is it possible for that failure of a man to still remain a captain –“

Getting up, Brixton shouted, “Sub-lieutenant Anderson! I will not accept any words against our commanding officer. If you want to end up in one of the ship’s cells, I dare you to repeat what you just said.” The weasel was not liked amongst the crew, so nobody protested the threat. “Know that I am going to personally speak to Captain Lestrade to inform him of your lack of confidence in him and will recommend your removal from his entourage. You are not the only sub-lieutenant on board, Anderson, your link with the Admiralty does not offer any protection here.” His face turning red at the insult as well as the fear of retaliation, the thin man flew the mess without uttering a word. “Still do not understand how it is possible for that poor excuse of an officer to work next to our commander. One thing for sure, Captain Lestrade did not choose him personally.”

The steward, not wanting to be associated with the disliked man, quickly served a digestive and left as the conversation restarted, on lighter subjects.

Later that night, Watson was in his cabin reading over Holmes’ works again when someone knocked at his door.

“Come in!”

It was an old sailor. “Sorry, doc’, it’s late –“

“No problem my good man, can I help you with something?” The man looked in general good health, beside the obvious weariness that comes with age and hard work.

“M’fine, my name is Tucker. Just that I ‘eard that you’re askin’ about Holmes.”

Surprised, Watson invited the man in and closed the door. “Please feel free to sit on my berth...” Once the rugged sailor was comfortable, he added curiously, “what do you know about Sherlock Holmes?”

“Oh no, doctor, m’talking about the older brother, Mycrof’ Holmes, ‘was in India. Horribly hot country but the food -” he stopped talking and looked dreamily at the ceiling as he remembered the magnificent feasts he had. With a small clearing of his throat, Watson brought it back to the small cabin and offered him a drink. He nodded to accept a small dram of whisky, happily popping his tongue, “haaaaaaaaa, good stuff… not like the stuff they gave us below the deck.”

Watson promptly replenished the small tumbler. “Older brother? The diplomat that was positioned in Calcutta is the older brother of Sherlock Holmes, the engineer?”

“Yes, dunnot know the name of Mycrof’ Holmes brother, but I reckon it was a mechanic of some sort. I was on board a ship at the same time as him… Proper genius that man. The officers and othe’ gents on board were a bit afraid you know.”

“Afraid of the man?”

“Of the ideas in his ‘ead…” He paused, knowing that the doctor was captivated by his tale. “He was looking like a prop’r gentleman but, under, he was on the side of the Indians. Wasn’t happy ‘bout the way the crown was doin’ things.” He leaned to talk into Watson’s ear. “Ol’ man like me, nobody knows when we’re here you know.” He grinned, showing a few missing teeth, “but we’re always listening…”

“And you heard something?”

“A night, we were in the middle of the Bay of Bengal, we received a message in the night. T’was for Mister Holmes. We were a bit excited you know, ‘cause of the way the message arrived. A  _ wireless _ message, it was important!” He extended his hand with a sheepish smile, waiting for a refill. “’Ta, at that time I didn’t know what the message was, I’m only working in the kitchen… not with the officers or the guests especially a big politician who talked with our Queen. A bit later, I was alone scrubbing the pans when Holmes’ secretary entered the kitchen and asked for tea for his master. The man was white… and green. He looked sick. He couldn’t stand so I decided to take the tea and go to his room. Poor chap being sick like that, the sea is not for everyone, and… I was curious.”

“Were you able to deliver the tea at Holmes’ cabin?” Watson indulgently asked, despite his desire for the old man to skip the pleasantry!

“Yes, he civilly asked to put down the tray on his desk. T’was weird… ‘heard his voice before on the main deck. It was cold, firm… but now his voice was fragile. ‘This why I asked if he was well.”

“What did he reply?”

“He asked me if I had a brother or a sister, I said that I didn’t know, I’m ‘n orphan you know. He looked at me for the first time. His eyes, t’was sad, really sad. He told me that he learned that his brother was dead. I said that I was sorry, he’s upper crust but a nice sort I think, that losin’ a brother when you had one all your life mus’ be horrible. I pour the tea and offer him a cup. He was so alone, with his sad news. I asked him if he was good friends with his brother. He laughed, but kind of sadly, and started to tell me stories about his brother. How he was a genius, always inventing things. I left the cabin as the ship turned. She was going back to the nearest port.”

“When it was, do you remember?”

“T’was the Summer, in 1893. Right after the monsoon.”

_ The time concurred with the death of Partington… But Sherlock Holmes was not killed. I do not understand! _ “You did not talk to him after that?” Watson inquired.

“No, never seen the man after that. He left the ship in Madras to board a wee clipper in the direction of England.”

“Thank you Tucker, it is interesting to know more about the Holmeses and –“

“You know, when I went back to my cot, his secretary came to see me. He gave me one hundred rupees and said that a pension was going to wait for me at the Admiralty when I decided to retire.”

“This is really generous of Holmes.” Watson was trying to understand the man without being able to do so.  _ Who is he? The fearsome negotiator, cold diplomat or a good man with his discreet Indian’s right advocate and this unusual act of compassion. _

“The secretary told me that his master was moved because I was ‘onest. He wasn’t used to that in the world where he lives.”

“That is sad… but I am happy that you were there for him at that terrible moment.”

Getting up from the side of the berth where he was sitting, the old man winced as his muscles protested. “I may take him on that, the pension is really there I check. This is my last trip.”

“Chasing a monster?” The doctor teased as his mind tried to ease his heart shattered at the idea that Sherlock Holmes was dead.  _ This is ridiculous, I do not know the man! And it’s a good thing, that means that the genius is not working on the submersible… but we need to find another main suspect. _ “Good night Tucker, let me know if your rheumatism gets worse.”

“I will, doc, I will. G’night.”

The old sailor left, singing a song about women left in a port and the beauty of the sea… 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my 20 or so readers, sorry for the long delay! I am moving to a new condo so everything is complicated nowadays :-)
> 
> 2020/11/09: Good news! My new chapter is in the hands of my beta and I am already working on the next. Keep faith lol 
> 
>   
> (For the terrible story of the HMS Victoria: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Victoria_(1887) )


	5. The storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they get closer to their destination a terrible storm put everything in peril.

In the morning, the sun was barely visible as a thick layer of dark clouds covered the sky for as far as the eyes can see. Looking outside with concern, Watson stopped on his way to the officers’ mess where he was going to join the others for breakfast. The small portholes along the passageway were not enough to get a real feeling of what was going on, but it was worrisome! He opened a side door and stepped outside to have a better view. It was so terrible that the furious wind nearly dismantled the hinges of the solid metal door! _ I am no sailor, but this is not good!  _ Placing his hat solidly under his arm he walked in the direction of the bow, eyes fixed on the sky until his legs became tangled into something flowy. “What –“

“Oh, sorry Doctor Watson!” Miss Hooper shouted over the ruckus as she tried to control the many layers of her skirt. “It truly is impractical don’t you think?” Pushing them down against the whirling wind, she muttered, “I knew I should have brought my riding breeches.”

“Miss Hooper, I was able to hear you despite all the crackling of the boat, are you of the same mind as Amelia Bloomer?” Watson chided, feigning horror.

Pointing her small nose to the man, she folded her arms cheekily. “What if I was?”

“I would think only higher of you, Miss Hooper, as the place of the woman in the society is a subject dear to me. My own sister is quite a bit of a rebel herself!” Turning his gaze again at the horizon, he asked. “You are a specialist of the sea and its nature… what do you think of these clouds, that wind… and the waves are also getting stronger if I am not mistaken.”

“You are right, we are up for a good storm… or worse.”

“What can be worse than a storm?” The doctor chuckled nervously.

“Nothing to worry about, I am certain,” the biologist replied dismissively. “Would you escort me to breakfast, surgeon-captain, before my ridiculous dress throws me in the sea?”

“Of course, Miss Hooper, it would be my honour.”

The atmosphere was heavy around the table. The officers mainly talked amongst themselves about the incoming storm and the different strategies to sail around or into it. Watson and the others remained silent, trying to learn about their situation without troubling the officers with questions.

As Professor Moriarty muttered under his breath once more, Watson sighed silently. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Just that we are doomed, they are all idiots.” The man’s voice was now clearly audible to everyone in the small room. “All the new equipment at their disposition… Equipment that men of science like ME created for them, but unable to use it to sail safely. This is a disgrace to Her Majesty’s Navy -

Lestrade protested quickly to defend his crew. “PROFESSOR! Please keep your opinion to yourself, you are an eminent engineer but not a sailor. My first preoccupation is to keep everyone aboard this ship safe and - ”

Sarcastically, the repulsive man interrupted the captain, “haven’t you killed your own –“

“MORIARTY!”

“I do not think it is a good idea to antagonise the people who are sailing our ship.” Miss Hooper opposed quietly. 

Watson nodded, “I think you are right, my dear,” as the Professor stormed out of the room. 

“The show is over, do not let that poor excuse of a man trouble you, time to go to your positions.” Pressing both hands on the oak table he smiled with faith in his ship, “she is not going to go through this storm alone!”

Alone with Miss Hooper in the library, Watson was unable to concentrate. The constant swaying as well as the sound of the men running everywhere was worrying, to say the least. Closing his book about basic engineering – he was still trying to understand what was written in Holmes’ paper - he rose from his chair to stand at one of the small windows.

“You are not used to such a long journey, are you?” The gentle voice of the biologist said, trying to soothe her comrade’s fears.

“No, not really. Short trips in the Mediterranean then train or horses usually. A few storms… nothing as big and powerful as this tempest… Or is it a hurricane already!”

“Do not worry, Doctor Watson, I have the utmost faith in Captain Lestrade.”

“I do too…” the man murmured, “it’s the ocean that I do not trust!”

Laughing, the young woman walked to a small table where a chessboard was set, “can I interest you in a game of chess, doctor?”

With a sigh, he turned away from the window, “why not, maybe it is going to change my mind.”

“I am quite good I think, my uncle was a worthy opponent!”

Watson started to place the small pieces. “This is going to be interesting… I learned chess from a fellow student when I was in medical school. A nice way to occupy the long night when you are on duty but the ward is quiet. White or black?”

Satisfied that her goal to change her companion’s spirit worked, she replied decidedly, “white.”

They started to play, keeping an eye on the windows and the door; trying to stay in tune with the battle that was going outside. After a few turns, they stopped talking, letting the slow movements of their hands express the movement of the game. 

_ She was right, she is quite good, _ Watson thought, trying to find a way to save his Queen. He was lost in his quest for an exit route when a name brought it out of the game. “What did you say? Sorry.”

“I was asking about Holmes,” the biologist asked shyly, “you have read all his works many times… what is your opinion of the man? Do you think he is as evil as Professor Moriarty says? That he killed that poor Professor Partington and that other man. That he is behind all these attacks around the world?”

Keeping his knight in his hand, the doctor straightened and pressed his back into the cushion. “I cannot say that I know him…”, he swallowed with difficulty, thinking about the ethereal beauty of the young man he saw in the picture, “but his work is magnificent. I am not an engineer, far from it, but his ideas and the way he expressed them… he is… he is a genius.” Words from one of his papers escaped from his lips. “He wrote in the introduction of one of his paper that… that…  _ life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of a man could invent. _ How could a cold calculating man, a killer, express an idea like that!” The soldier began speaking with passion, protecting an unknown man, for reasons unknown, even to himself. “And… and at the start of the examination of the result of an experiment he said that  _ nothing is more deceptive than an obvious fact!” _

“So you think…” Miss Hooper encouraged.

“Seeing him as a murderer that stole those plans is the obvious answer but it is ridiculous! It must be some sort of set-up, or he was afraid for his own life… Above everything else, he is not a criminal!” His eyes were shining, his voice fervent, “a such a delicate yet passionate man cannot have killed two fellow engineers to get his hands on research! It is preposterous! As if someone like Holmes, with all his connection through his brother, with all the brilliance of his mind, needed that to be successful! The only option where this could be a possibility would be if he was in the  _ habit _ of stealing research -”

Miss Hooper added quickly, “but Professor Partington knew him well and yet invited him to work on his project –“

“Yes! So, he knew Holmes was not a fraud!” Looking back at the board, he was about to sacrifice his knight when a voice interrupted him.

“You know nothing of the man, Doctor Watson, and nothing about engineering. Please keep your opinions to yourself or else…” The menace was clearly perceptible in Professor Moriarty’s voice.

Rising from his chair, the surgeon-captain moved to shield his young companion from the unpleasant company. “Or else? Are you threatening me?” Looking with disdain at the delicate man, from head to toes, he snickered. “I do not think that Captain Lestrade would be against a boxing match or a sword fight on the upper deck once that storm calms down… Especially against you.”

Casually, Moriarty extended an arm to take one of the pawns. “I am not an idiot enough to fight with you, you are a  _ soldier,  _ after all _ , a pawn…  _ Oh sorry, true, a _doctor_. A doctor who was kicked out of the army because he was now useless.” The disdainful tone stung Watson but he remained stoic, “I am not interested in fighting with you… because information is the best attack now. In these days of newspapers and telegraph. A man of your age, still not married...” Angling his mouth near the other man's ear, he murmured, “you know what happened to that poor Wilde fellow… quite sad, wasn't it?” He silently broke the upper part of the black pawn before letting the pieces fall to the floor and left the room without another word.

“Doctor Watson,” Miss Hooper asked with worries, “are you all right? You are quite pale…” She rushed to the side table to serve a small glass of whisky. “Drink that, it is going to help you.”

Drinking the offered spirit in one swallow, he excused himself and walked in the direction of the door in pursuit of Moriarty. “Miss Hooper, remain here, for your own safety.”

The main deck was deserted, only the essential sailors were fighting the element directly as most of the officers were protected from the rain on the bridge. Pushing the rain from his eyes, Watson saw the man he was looking for rushing in the direction of the back of the ship. “MORIARTY!”

He stopped and condescendingly turned to look into his opponent’s eyes. “Watson, if you really want to fight with me, may I ask you to wait for the end of the storm?”

The doctor walked towards the professor, furious. “What you said –“

“Is true, I have paid enough to have a little something against everyone of importance on this ship –“ He smirked and eyed his opponent, “well, when I say “ _ of importance _ ”…”

“Shut-up, just shut-up you miserable –“

“And of course, you are already enamoured with Holmes. Pathetic. You don’t even know the man.”

Pushing Moriarty against the railing, he grabbed his coat. “I really don’t know what is stopping me from just pushing you overboard. One less vermin on the ship.”

“You cannot do that,” Moriarty teased, “you are a doctor!”

“And a soldier, do not forget it!” His fists were about to grip the man even more solidly when the weasel smiled and turned his head to the right.

“Oh… good evening, Miss Hooper.” He sing-songed insufferably as if she was interrupting a nice chat amongst friends, “nice weather for a little stroll isn’t?”

“What is going on –“

“Miss Hopper, sorry for –“ Watson released the man as soon as he realized that it was not a ruse, that the young woman truly was standing there. He extended his arm to keep the man away from the biologist but it was too late! Taking the opportunity that the distraction offered, Moriarty swiftly switched position with the doctor before pressing forcibly some secret points only known to the students of the martial art. It took only a few seconds before Watson was overcome by dizziness. “Go to Hell, Watson, be careful it’s not the fall that kills one, it is the landing.”

And he pushed him over the railing before Miss Hooper was able to stop him.

The shock of his body entering the sea was as strong as the bullet which destroyed his shoulder. He screamed at the blazing pain but his voice changed into gurgling as his mouth filled with glacial water. It was terribly cold, but it was not what hit Watson first. It was the silence. After the screaming, the noises of the tempest, the dizziness… it was so peaceful.  _ I should get back to the surface… _ His eyes were about to close instinctively when movement beside him triggered a reaction. It was another person.  _ Oh my God! Miss Hooper! How could I have forgotten about her for a second! In the hands of that psychopath.  _ Urging his limbs to action, he swam back to the surface. Turning his head urgently, he tried to locate the poor woman in the chaos of the raging sea, calling at the top of his lung even if he knew that his screams were unable to cut through the noise!  _ She is there! Her skirts are pulling her down!  _

The movement of a buoy falling a few meters away finally turned his eyes in the right direction as someone started to shout inaudibly from the ship.  _ Quick Watson, quick!  _ Urging his stone-cold muscles, he painfully swam at the place he last saw her. Diving, he looked around, trying to find her under the water without success. Unable to keep his breath further he rushed to the surface before getting back to his quest until he finally saw a glimpse of a metallic reflection.  _ Her brooch! It’s her! _

After a few attempts he was able to bring the poor lady to the surface of the raging sea. Holding her head out of the water, she was in shock and spitting water but unharmed, he pushed her near the kisby ring that thankfully remained near them despite the waves. “Grab it! I… I can’t swim anymore!” Once her arms were safely around the buoy, he finally closed his eyes. 

_ Just a second. Please God, let me live. _

Everything turned black as he drowned into the depth of the dark sea as the ship was forcibly pushed away by the strong wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter :-) Another one will follow soon.


	6. Under the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small snippet of the life on board of the Nautilus… AKA “The Monster”

“It is beautiful, Sherlock, quite soothing…” Holmes smiled at seeing his younger brother enthralled by his violin even if he knew that his melancholy was still present. _He is getting better though._ _Slowly._ “Is it a composition of your own design? I cannot recall hearing it before.” Not really expecting an answer, he knew better, he fixed his drink before walking silently to his desk. A small sigh escaped his lips as he finally sat in his comfortable chair after a long day. The study – or the Great room - was his favourite place in the whole vessel as the room was of a generous proportion and therefore quite a luxury in such an efficient machine. It was full to the brim of everything dear to the brothers and not as minimalistic as the rest of the submarine: Books in many languages, art pieces, a few photographs, Mycroft’s collection of maps, Sherlock’s music, as well as his plans and experiments. It was used as their office and they often discussed hours of seas to explore, new technologies and the latest gossip from the world outside of their small universe. 

Besides the study, Sherlock was also regularly found in his cabin or in the strangest place where he just stood there lost in his Mind Palace or tweaking a small mechanical movement for hours. Totally unaware of the metallic sounds of the machine that surrounded him. Mycroft, on the other hand, preferred the openness of the great room and the majestic view from the large portholes.  _ Who would have thought that one day I was going to live under the sea! This is such a fantastic place to be. Alone but not lonely, away from the tricks and inhumanity of men. At peace.  _ He turned his gaze toward his brother, waiting for him to resume his playing.

The younger man finally looked at Mycroft and nodded softly before murmuring minutes after the question was asked, “yes, this is one of mine…” He looked at his hands still holding his violin as if he wasn’t aware of how the instrument appeared there. “I… I started again recently. Composing, I mean. Now that the Nautilus is sailing without problems, now that everything is working well I have more time.” He closed his eyes, hiding his emotions, “I have more time and… It has been a while… I… since… you know… –“ He suddenly stopped and started playing again, abandoning his composition for Tchaikovsky.

Letting his brother focus on his music, the diplomat turned captain opened the file in front of him. He read the messages they intercepted.

> _ Attention of Captain Lestrade, HMS Archer _
> 
> _ From Admiralty, London Office _
> 
> _ Enemy last seen 500 leagues away from the coast of Florida. STOP Be careful. STOP _

__

> _ Attention of Professor Moriarty, HMS Archer _
> 
> _ From Admiralty, London Office _
> 
> _ No trace of S. Holmes. STOP He did not contact the Imperial College. STOP No confirmation that he is working with our enemy. STOP Still the primary suspect in the death of professor Partington and his assistant. STOP _

_ Our next mission… _ Pushing the second message under his other papers, Holmes swallowed with difficulty, his throat tightened by disgust.  _ Moriarty, that bastard, is on board the ship…  _ The small doubt that he had vanished.  _ I was going to let them go because they have a marine biologist on board and that it is not officially a warship, but that man! If they are working with that man! _

“Mycroft,” Sherlock called, “are you all right?”

“Yes, brother mine, making plans.” Looking at the chart in front of him, he calculated the HMS Archer’s position and set a small red boat in place.

Frowning, the engineer placed his violin back in its case. “Who are they?”

“A  _ warship _ that was sent to find and destroy us and this great creation.” Opening his arms to encapsulate everything surrounding them, Mycroft smiled coldly. “I won’t let it happen. Never.”  _ I will not lose another loved one. _

“You did not answer my question,” Sherlock said, interrupting his brother’s thoughts, “WHO are they?”

After a small hesitation, he murmured, “British.”

“Oh…”, turning around to close his case, the engineer walked to his own desk. He knew that arguing with Mycroft about things like that was useless, but he was not able to stay silent. “Are you sure that –“

“They are starting to put together that the monster is in fact a submersible... You are one of the top engineers in the world, you worked with Partington.”  _ He let the idea sink into his brother’s mind. It is for his security! He is far too sentimental!  _ “They are idiots but even idiots are able to put the pieces together at some point. You know you are accused of killing the poor man and… and his assistant.” The breaking of the stern man’s voice was clearly audible. “And they think you are on board the submersible. We have to do something! Is it going to be a problem? Remember that we are not pursuing them, they are! It is them or us, literally!”

Nodding sadly, Sherlock opened his notebook and started to write the results of the few tests he ran in the afternoon before changing his mind.  _ I won’t be able to work anyway. _ Getting up again he wished a good night to his brother and left for his cabin.

After a night where neither man was able to sleep soundly, they found themselves surrounded by their men for breakfast and unable to talk about their disagreement.

One of the first traditions aboard the Nautilus was that at 6 o’clock in the morning all the men - except two in the control room – came together for the first meal of the day in the communal mess. The room was nearly as long as the Great room but with a lower ceiling. It was furnished with a big refectory table as well as many bookshelves full of novels and games. Everything to pass the time when off duty and in good company. It was a small crew, only 12 including the officers, but every one of them was carefully selected for their good temper and their team spirit; All hard workers, scientists or skilled workers alike, and all linked by similar ideas. People who have lost everything, that seeks for another life away from the burden of their past.

Away from the laws of men and the laws of Gods.

“Good day, hope that you all slept well?” Mycroft asked as he looked at his men benevolently. After a joyous exchange of morning wishes, a variety of food was laid on the table by the woman in charge of the well being of the men and her young assistant. When everything was ready, the old woman sat near Sherlock at the place of honour.

“You don’t eat enough young man, look at those beautiful muffins and fresh fruits!” She was proud of the small miracle she was able to pull from the Nautilus’ small kitchen. “It was a great idea to replenish our provisions when we were near the Bahamas. But really Sherlock, next time you need to consult me on the kitchen configuration.” It was a constant complaint of her and was expected at every meal!

Taking the opportunity to interact with his brother, Mycroft objected playfully, “you should be happy that I realized that a kitchen was somewhat expected, Ms Hudson!”

Mirth in his eyes, the architect of the Nautilus teased back, “of course, you are the one who thinks about that and not me! You need a place to bake cakes! You are the only one on board who is regularly… increasing. You must be careful, or you won’t fit in your cot anymore!”

Knowing that it was a game between the brothers, the men started to protest that their Captain wasn’t fat as a whale (yet) and that if he wanted to do some work-out, the engine room was in serious need of a good cleaning!

“My friends! I would never dream of keeping you all away from such a  _ prestigious _ task…” Mycroft replied as everyone protested that it was an  _ important _ mission that they were pleased to leave to their captain. Holding his hand up to stop the cacophonic argument, he stated seriously, “I can only see one way if we want to be fair!”

“What way is that, Captain?” Billy, the small boy who worked with Ms Hudson, asked, his eyes riveted to Holmes in admiration.

“Tonight, we are having a game night! And the two with the lowest scores are going to be on cleaning duty!”

“Even you, Captain?” The welder in chief asked with a wink.

“Yes, of course!”

“And you, Master Sherlock?” Mycroft’s second, Simpson, questioned.

“Me?” He waited, knowing that the men – and Ms Hudson – were eager for his participation. “Yes, even me.”

A second wave of hurrahs resonated in the small room as the men pushed in their chairs and thanked the cook for her great meal. The atmosphere between the brothers nearly back to normal after the light banter, they both walked in the direction of the great room to start the day.

The sun was slowly rising over an agitated sea – obviously everything was calmer 10 meters below the surface – when their second knocked and entered the room a few minutes later.

“Captain, Master,” he nodded, “the wind brought the HMS Archer directly on our path. We are waiting for your instructions.”

Hopeful of a peaceful exit route, the younger man muttered without conviction, “maybe –“

“Sherlock!” Mycroft abruptly objected, wanting to keep their discussion private, “thank you Simpson, we are going to call you as soon as we decide what we want to do.”

The sailor was about to leave the brothers alone when one of his men opened the door urgently, “sirs, sorry, but two people have been thrown overboard. A man and a  _ woman _ judging by the silhouettes.”

The engineer looked at Mycroft with forceful eyes as the sailors protested against the people who killed people in such a horrible way! “A woman, captain, how awful!”

_ God, now I have no other choice. Maybe we are going to learn something useful… or send a message. _ “Send three men, be careful I don’t want to lose any of you. Will see what we are doing with the ship after everyone is back safe…”

“Do not worry, Sir, Master Sherlock’s equipment is the best warranty of a safe rescue.” He rushed outside the room to get his men ready for the mission.  _ There is not a moment to lose! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky you, that one was already written :-) 
> 
> Going back to 20,000 leagues as soon as Mystrade Advent Calendar is done.


	7. Prisoners!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watson found himself in a perilous situation.

_ Oh God, I’m dying…  _ Watson fought against the numbness in his limbs, in his mind…  _ Miss Hooper! _ He struggled to open his eyes, fighting to locate his unfortunate companion in the dimness of the sea. Unable to do so, he blindly tried to extend his arms, to reach for her but wherever she was, she was outside of his grasp.  _ No, no, where is she! I must save her. She was just there… Something is wrong, something is wrong!  _ The veil usually covering the eyes when looking under water wasn’t there. The blackness was absolute. His hands touched his face and he realized in stupor that his skin was dry! Slowly, pushing away the panic of being in such a dark place, he moved his hands down his torso.  _ My clothes are dry also, I am out of the water. I was only panicking. What is going on, I’m not in my uniform, who saved me?  _ He was wearing a simple linen shirt with trousers constructed of the same material.  _ Am I back on the ship? This is not my cabin, not my bed.  _ Pushing himself up he turned to sit on the side of the small cot, his bare feet touching the cold floor.

Not wanting to alarm anyone with bad intention he murmured, “Miss Hopper… Are you here?” Carefully, he stepped away from the bed and walked a few steps until he touched a wall.  _ Okay, this is quite small. _ He cautiously put a hand on the wall and followed it until he felt the contour of a door. He gave brief consideration to the absence of a door handle.  _ How big is this room? _ He started to walk again, counting how many steps before he was back at the door.  _ Approximately 20 small steps, so… a square room, a bit less than 3 metres on each side. Beside the bed and a small table, it’s empty; and that door without a handle… I am a prisoner! _

Unable to restrain his hanger and his worries, he shouted, “Open the door! RIGHT NOW! If you hurt Miss Hooper in any way I am going to –“

A muffled voice suddenly passed through the metallic door. “Watson, is it you? Thank God you are not dead!”

_ The Captain! I am back on the ship then _ . Pressing an ear on the door near a small line in the wall that should be the door hinge, the doctor called, “Lestrade! It’s you! Can you open the door!”

“I think that I am in the same situation as you dear fellow, I am in something that can only be called a cell.” He roared in frustration, “I tried but I can open the door!”

“It is that fiend Moriarty! He took control of the ship!” The questions keep bursting into Watson’s mind! “Don’t you have anyone that can help us? Where is Miss Hopper?”

“They told me that Miss Hopper was safe and sound. We are not on board of the HMS Archer…” The captain paused, trying to soften the blow, “we are inside the monster.”

_ How, what? _ “What happened, why are you here? I can’t remember anything –“

A loud bang resonated on the metallic wall of the room as a heavily accented voice barked, “Shut up!”

Lestrade quickly riposted. “Give us news about the young lady that was with us!”

The unknown man laughed, “do not worry, she’s going to have a great time with our Captain and the Master.”

“If they dare to touch –“

“Stay calm,” their jailor barked, “and I won’t forget to bring your meal.”

A few seconds later, the prisoners felt the vibration of a door closing.

“Watson!” Lestrade called urgently, “we must get out of there!”

“How could they be so vile as to attack an innocent woman!” The doctor fumed, ready to go to battle against the invisible army. “I’ve got an idea, here is what we are going to do…”

A floor above the cells, the Holmes brothers were looking at each other, both tongue-tied in front of the recent events.

“Sentiment, always a downfall,” the older man muttered, “we should have left them in the water.”  _ Especially if we were to put the ship down anyway! And now we’ve been separated by the tempest! _

Horrify, Sherlock stopped his annoying back and forth walk. “You cannot be serious; they are not our enemies! The crew of the ship sent to kill us pushed them overboard, use the evidence of your eyes, brother!”

“You saw the men’s coats;” Mycroft returned, irritated by his brother’s objections, “a captain and a surgeon-captain! They can only be spies!”

His brother laughed sarcastically, “and the young lady, a spy also?”

“Never underestimate the so-called weaker sex, brother mine.” He sighed, then opened a folder on his desk; he studied once more the evidence that Moriarty was on board of the HSM Archer _. Should I inform Sherlock about that…  _ Thinking about how devastated his brother was after his encounter with the man, he hesitated.  _ But one of our… guests is going to speak about him, it’s better if the news comes from me.  _ “Sherlock, I learned something about the people on board the ship.”

“Nothing you can say will change my mind -” 

“ _ He _ is with them.”

“Who are you –“ The engineer's head slowly turned to watch his brother, hoping that he was mistaken. “You mean… Professor Moriarty? He is… he is on board?” As Mycroft nodded, Sherlock exploded. “You should have told me! It doesn’t change that saving these poor people was what we should do but… now we do not know where the ship is! We lost them!” His beautiful face darkened with anger and disgust, the young man gasped, looking for air. “He killed… he killed him because of me Mycroft, he is Evil incarnate.”

“I know,” laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder in comfort, Mycroft murmured, “he is going to pay for everything he did.” Hoping to bring him back on his side, he added, “the loss of the Archer is an unfortunate delay, but you must see now that we must take advantage of our prisoners. They must tell us everything they know!”

“Perhaps, but I won’t accept any mistreatment of the prisoners! I have looked away when you attack military ships that threaten an unprotected population or if we are directly attacked without provocation but I will not let you abuse a woman!”  _ Or that beautiful blond officer. _

“Brother mine,” the elder brother protested, “I will not lay a finger on her.”

“Neither shall our men,” Sherlock stated, knowing how his brother likes to play with words.

“I promise, she is our guest, that’s all.” The discussion came to an end as someone knocked on the door. “Come in!”

“Captain, the young lady is awake. Do you want to speak to her in her room or here?”

“Bring her here, we will be more comfortable,” Sherlock replied, not letting his brother the time to say another word.

The seaman looked to his Captain and, when Mycroft confirmed the order, he left to retrieve their guest.

“Be ready Lestrade!” Watson urged as he heard the noise of the main door opening. He positioned himself on the wall beside the door and waited.

A moment later he heard a curious buzzing sound and the sound of a falling body.  _ What’s going on? What did they do?  _ The man who was there before laughed, “if you think that I am idiot enough to do nothing. No, no, don’t talk, don’t worry you’re going to be able to move in a few minutes.”

The clang of a bowl was the only thing Watson heard before Lestrade’s door was closed again. He frantically searched to find what happened to his jail mate.  _ That little noise, it was a buzz, I remember… I heard it somewhere.  _ Suddenly he remembered a demonstration at the Crystal Palace! Swiftly he jumped on the bed without touching the bed frame. The buzzing sound happened again, the air filling with electricity. Carefully he extended his left to upturn the small table, the loud sound hurting his ears.

“Don’t break the table lad,” the jailor said as he opened the door.

The light from the hallway entered the room but it was too late, Watson jumped from the bed and pushed the man on the floor, effectively knocking him unconscious. He checked quickly for keys or anything useful and smiled when his hands touched a small knife and a set of keys. Using the bedsheet, he gagged and tied up the man to the bed before getting out of his cell. He blinked as the corridor’s brightness hurt his eyes. He shook his head to keep his focus and tried one key after the other, hoping to find the right one when he finally heard a victorious ‘click’. Opening the door, he rushed to Lestrade’s side. “Captain! It’s Watson, can you get up?”

“Watson?” His voice was a bit shaky, “what happened to me?”

“It was a pulse of energy; you were standing on the metal floor and -”

“Oh, yes, that explains the tingling sensation.” The older man was still a bit groggy, his voice not as assertive as usual. He chortled, “I remember when I was in a mission in South America, we played to see who was courageous enough to touch an electric eel and –“

“Later, sorry Captain, we must get out of here and find Miss Hopper!”

“Oh!” Lestrade straightened his spine, feeling abruptly better. “Come on Watson!”

Silently, after they confirmed that the room contained only two cells, they walked to the door. Luck was on their side, the first key was the right one! Sliding the door open, they waited a few seconds before stepping outside. Except for the voice of people talking in a nearby room and the humming of some sort of engine, the corridor was silent. Eyeing a ladder, Watson murmured to Lestrade. “I bet Miss Hopper is on a higher deck. Our captor suggested that she was going to be with the Captain- “

“Captain!” Lestrade huffed, “this is but a ruffians crew, criminals, murderers –“

“We must remain quiet for now! Be ready, we don’t know how many men they are.” Cautiously, they made their way to the ladder and climbed-up while watching for the presence of an enemy. Waiting for Lestrade to step on the deck, the doctor surveyed the corridor. It was long, approximately 40 meters. The walls and the floor were in metal with doors of wood. A scent of delectable food was coming from his right, in a closed room from where the joyful discussions of young men escaped as well as the soft but stern voice of a woman.  _ Kitchen, she won’t be there. _

“Watson,” Lestrade called softly, “I bet the so-called captain is there.” He pointed to the left at the end of the corridor where the door was different from the other and beautifully carved. “Looks like the man has expensive taste.”

Staying silent about the luxury of the Captain’s quarter on the HSM Archer, Watson followed after Lestrade  _ All the doors are closed, no one is around, it is too easy.  _ He stood as guard as Lestrade slid the heavy door to reveal the rest of the corridor. Closing the door after them to avoid being taken by surprise, they cautiously advanced in the direction of the end of the corridor where a light was glowing through the ajar door. They walked by two rooms, one on each side, that were clearly bedrooms. One was neat and cold in appearance, with few personal objects, when the other was warmth and cluttered. Lived in.  _ The Captain and the Master’s rooms surely. _

They were standing in front of the last door, wondering what to do, when they heard Miss Hopper shouted, “no! You can’t do that!”

It was enough for them! “Get away from her!” Lestrade shouted as he jumped in the room followed by his companion.

Unmoved by the fit of passion, Mycroft Holmes smirked at the two men. “Captain Lestrade and Surgeon-captain Watson I presume?” He pointed in the direction of a beautiful teapot, “do you care for a cup of tea? We are out of Earl Grey but it's an acceptable Assam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long... Sorry! My Mystrade Christmas story took me 2 months! Unbelievable!
> 
> (About using electricity to control prisoners, it wasn't in the novel but I think it's technically possible, don't you think? And what the Hell Greg is doing on the Nautilus?)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies :) let me know what you think :)


End file.
